


Let It Snow

by theglitterati



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: "we’re strictly ‘platonic’ but we’re snowed in omg we’re gonna have to repopulate the earth".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronnlynch (ohlmes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlmes/gifts).



> [Original prompt located here.](http://bravenry.tumblr.com/post/133627477715/im-always-a-slut-for-a-christmas-au-i-know-we)
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> This is for a fic exchange with my bae-ta [Carol](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com/), so Merry Christmas!

_Oh, the weather outside is frightful / but the fire is so delightful / and since we've no place to go / let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_

_Wonderful,_ Courfeyrac thinks, as Combeferre’s voice floats into the room from the kitchen. _He’s singing again. In that stupid, beautiful voice of his. I’m pretty sure he does this just to torture me._

Courfeyrac can’t help but feel a little bitter. It’s December 28th, which means three days have passed since Christmas, the deadline he had set for his goal of telling Combeferre how he really feels about him.

He had always thought that Combeferre was attractive (read: so ridiculously hot that it made Courfeyrac want to die), but over the past six or so months, Courfeyrac had come to the realization that he was heads over heels crazy about his best friend.

The plan had been to seduce him before going home for Christmas, using one of the many opportunities (mistletoe, gift-giving) that the season presented to make his feelings clear. But there had been so much going on, so much food to make and so many parties to go to, that he had never gotten the chance to be alone with Combeferre long enough to bare his soul to him.

Combeferre comes back into the room then, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, still singing under his breath. It’s their monthly movie night, a tradition that they started in first year. While they see their friends almost every other day, no one else is ever invited to movie night; it’s all theirs.

“This one’s yours,” Combeferre says as he sits down next to Courfeyrac on the couch. “I put more marshmallows in it than hot chocolate.” As he hands it over, his fingers brush against Courfeyrac’s, and Courfeyrac feels like screaming or sticking his tongue down Combeferre’s throat or both.

 _You know,_ an annoying voice in Courfeyrac’s head that sounds like Enjolras says, _the date you picked is completely arbitrary. You could just be honest and tell him how you feel right now._

 _Or,_ Courfeyrac’s conscience continues, _you could just passive-aggressively hit on him like you always do, and see if that works, even though it hasn’t yet in the entire six months you’ve been doing it._

“You should look outside,” Combeferre is saying while Courfeyrac considers his options, only half-listening. “There’s got to be a foot of snow on the ground! It’s the most snow we’ve had in December in ages.”

 _The second option sounds good,_ Courfeyrac thinks.

“You look really hot in that sweater,” Courfeyrac blurts out, interrupting Combeferre’s tirade about snowfall levels. “That colour is incredible against your skin.” It’s true; the royal blue cable knit sweater that Jehan got Combeferre for Christmas does look amazing against his dark skin.

“Oh,” Combeferre says mildly, as he sets up the movie on the TV. “Thanks, Courf.”

 _“Thanks, Courf?” Really?_ Courfeyrac thinks. He’s going to have to try harder.

Combeferre starts the movie, and because he’s strict about people not talking over them, Courfeyrac can’t say anything more. So, for his next move, he grabs a blanket from the chest Combeferre uses as a coffee table and throws it over both of them. Then he snuggles right up against Combeferre, wrapping one arm around him and resting his head on his shoulder.

The result: nothing. Combeferre barely acknowledges that he’s just been cuddled by one of the best cuddlers in town. He just shifts slightly to get more comfortable, which leaves the two of them even closer together.

Courfeyrac is beyond frustrated; hitting on Combeferre is like trying to hit on a brick wall. Annoyed, he gets up after fifteen minutes to go rinse his empty mug out in the sink.

“Do you want me to pause it?” Combeferre calls after him.

“Don’t bother,” Courfeyrac yells back.

Courfeyrac rinses the mug, then stands at the sink, staring out the window. There really is a lot of snow outside. Also, Combeferre doesn’t like him back and never will and his life is pretty much ruined now so he should probably just become a hermit or buy a few dozen cats or something.

Courfeyrac takes a deep breath before heading back into the living room and sitting back down, this time a little further away from Combeferre.

He knows it’s a lost cause, but Combeferre looks so damn good, with his sweater and his hair and his ridiculously sexy glasses that Courfeyrac can’t help making one last effort.

“You know,” he says, his voice practically a purr, “you were right about the snow; it’s a crazy amount. If it keeps coming down, we could get snowed in here, and you and I might have to repopulate the Earth.”

Combeferre looks slightly startled, and Courfeyrac is just about to mentally beat himself up for thinking that such a cheesy line that doesn’t even make sense could work when Combeferre grabs him and kisses him hard on the mouth.

It’s what Courfeyrac has been anticipating for months, but now that the moment’s here, he’s too shocked to do much about it. He places his hands on Combeferre’s shoulders to steady himself and just tries to make his lips do _something_ that resembles kissing.

“Fuck,” Combeferre mutters when they break the kiss, and that one word is enough for Courfeyrac to know that he had an effect, because Combeferre rarely swears. They stay together, their foreheads touching. “Please tell me that you wanted me to do that, and that I didn’t read the situation completely wrong.”

“I did, and you didn’t,” Courfeyrac says breathily. “I’ve wanted you to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Really. Was it not obvious?” Courfeyrac says, pulling back. “Just tonight, I called you hot, I cuddled you—”

“You’re like that with everyone, though,” Combeferre says. “Tactile, and generous with your compliments. I thought it was just more of that.”

“But I’m ten times more touchy-feely and flirty with you,” Courfeyrac counters.

“I thought that was just because we’re best friends,” Combeferre says.

“ _No,_ ” Courfeyrac says emphatically. “It’s because I _want_ you, Ferre.”

“Oh,” Combeferre says. “Well, it just so happens that I want you, too.”

Courfeyrac feels like his heart might jump right out of his chest, or his stomach might flip over. “You do?” he says, not even trying to hide his hopefulness.

“Yes, I really do,” Combeferre repeats, adjusting his glasses. “Though I need to ask you: do you just want me physically, or do you want… more?”

Courfeyrac softens, and reaches for his hand. This is his chance, to tell Combeferre what he feels for him.

“I want everything with you, Ferre. I have for months. I want to kiss you, and be intimate with you, and… and I want to date you, too.”

Combeferre exhales loudly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way,” Courfeyrac says. “I was afraid you’d reject me.”

“I was afraid of that, too,” Combeferre says quietly.

“So you like me back, then?” Courfeyrac asks. He’s pretty sure by now that the answer is yes, but he needs confirmation. “You want to be with me?”

Combeferre is silent for a moment.

“More than anything else in the world,” he finally says.

“Good,” Courfeyrac says, unable to stop from grinning ear-to-ear. “Then no more talking.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate; he wastes no time making his feelings for Combeferre loud and clear, climbing into Combeferre’s lap and kissing him deeply. Combeferre wraps his arms around him tentatively, then grips him more firmly when Courfeyrac sucks on his lower lip.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” Courfeyrac says, as he moves his mouth down Combeferre’s throat.

“I think I have some idea,” Combeferre says, laughing lightly. “Oh, _fuck,_ that feels good,” he adds, when Courfeyrac pulls his sweater aside and bites down on his collarbone.

Combeferre’s hands are everywhere, in Courfeyrac’s hair, under his shirt, on his _ass_ , and Courfeyrac feels like his entire body is on fire.

“No offense, because I’m enjoying all this foreplay,” he says into Combeferre’s ear, “but I need you inside me like _right now_.” He grinds his hips down against Combeferre’s to further his point, and is glad when he feels that Combeferre just as hard as he is.

Below him, Combeferre goes still, and his eyes darken. “Bedroom?” he asks, his voice about three octaves deeper than usual.

“Bedroom,” Courfeyrac agrees.

Courfeyrac tries to move out of Combeferre’s lap, but Combeferre grabs him around the hips instead and stands up, carrying Courfeyrac into the bedroom. He’s barely set Courfeyrac down on the bed when Courfeyrac starts ripping both of their clothes off.

Combeferre helps get all of Courfeyrac’s clothes off and then supports himself over him in just his underwear.

“You are stunning,” Combeferre says, their mouths just an inch apart, making Courfeyrac’s heart swell. Then he reaches up to try to remove his glasses.

“No,” Courfeyrac says, putting up his hand to stop him. “Please keep them on.”

Combeferre just laughs and winks at him – _god, everything he does is insanely hot,_ Courfeyrac thinks – and then moves his hand between them to grip Courfeyrac’s cock instead. Courfeyrac doesn’t even try to control himself, thrusting desperately into Combeferre’s fist. But he still needs more.

“Please fuck me now,” he says, whining. Combeferre gets the hint and grabs the lube and a condom from the nightstand drawer at once. Combeferre wastes no time slicking his fingers and pushing one, then two, then three, inside Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac moans loudly beneath him, his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Combeferre says. “I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”

Courfeyrac pushes himself up on his elbows. “Are you really that big?” he says incredulously.

“Um…” Combeferre says. His flush is visible even beneath his dark skin. “Yes.”

Courfeyrac scrambles to sit up then, and all but shreds Combeferre’s boxers trying to remove them.

He is big, probably the biggest Courfeyrac has even taken. He’s not worried, though; he’s nothing but excited.

“I promise I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me,” Courfeyrac says, “but I can take it.”

“And next time,” he adds, moving in to whisper in Combeferre’s ear, “I’m going to show you how I can put your entire cock down my throat. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this to you, but I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Courfeyrac’s words have the desired effect of getting Combeferre too worked up to wait any longer to fuck him. Combeferre quickly grabs the condom and opens it, rolling it onto himself. He looks like he’s considering making Courfeyrac turn around, so that it will hurt less, but Courfeyrac has no intention of doing this unless he’s able to see Combeferre. That must show on his face, because Combeferre stays quiet and positions himself against Courfeyrac’s entrance, then pushes inside.

The stretching feeling is there, but Courfeyrac barely registers it because he’s too busy noticing how gorgeous Combeferre looks, with his eyes shut in pleasure. Combeferre stays still inside him for a long time.

“You can move,” Courfeyrac says finally, and thankfully, Combeferre doesn’t argue.

It’s incredible, and amazing, and wonderful, and by far the best sex Courfeyrac has ever had. Combeferre knows what he’s doing; he’s good at this like he’s good at everything else. He quickly finds the right angle to hit Courfeyrac’s prostate on every thrust, and he’s attentive in other ways, whispering obscenities and messily kissing Courfeyrac’s lips and neck.

But more than that, Courfeyrac still cannot process that it’s Combeferre, _Combeferre_ , that he’s doing this with. It’s almost too much to handle.

“This is so amazing. You’re so good at this,” Courfeyrac says, well-aware that he’s babbling. “You look so great _– fuck, right there_ – so gorgeous. I love you so much, Ferre, so much—”

“What?!” Combeferre says above him, though he doesn’t stop fucking Courfeyrac, still hitting him in just the right spot. “What did you say?”

 _Oh fuck,_ Courfeyrac thinks. _That wasn’t supposed to be out loud._ “I said, I—oh, fuck, I’m—” Courfeyrac’s voice fails him as he comes, reaching his hand down to stroke himself through it. Combeferre’s eyes go wide, and he thrusts into him for ten seconds more before he’s digging his fingers into Courfeyrac’s thigh and biting his lip to stifle his moans.

“Did you mean it?” Combeferre asks, the second he’s pulled out of Courfeyrac and thrown out the condom.

Courfeyrac takes a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry if it’s too soon; I didn’t mean to say it, I just… I looked at you, and it slipped out. But I _did_ mean it, Ferre.”

Combeferre doesn’t say anything, just retrieves a towel from the nightstand and uses it to wipe both of them off. While Courfeyrac appreciates the gesture, he’s getting extremely nervous.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Courfeyrac asks, worst-case scenarios already running through his mind.

Combeferre puts the towel on the floor and then lays down next to him on his side.

“Yes,” Combeferre says, and there’s a smile on his lips. “I just wanted us to be comfortable first. But: I love you, too, Courfeyrac.”

“You do?” Courfeyrac says, his voice breaking.

“Of course I do,” Combeferre says easily. “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Courf. How could I not love you?”

Courfeyrac wants to say something back, something that explains that he feels the exact same way about Combeferre, to the point that it sometimes terrifies him how much he loves him. But if he says something right now, he’ll definitely cry, so he buries his face in Combeferre’s chest instead.

Combeferre gives him some time to calm down before saying anything else. He knows Courfeyrac so well that he knows when it’s best to just let him relax. Finally, he says, “Now that we’ve already had sex and declared our love for each other, would you like to go on a date sometime?”

Courfeyrac laughs. “I would like that very much,” he says. Then he gets up and reaches for his clothes.

“Where are you going?” Combeferre asks him.

“To get my cell phone, so I can text everyone I’ve ever met and tell them that we’re going out,” Courfeyrac answers. He’s not even joking.

Combeferre doesn’t try to argue. “Get your phone and come back in here with me?” he suggests.

Courfeyrac leans over him and gives him a deep, lasting kiss.

“That sounds perfect,” he says.


End file.
